


Secrets, Lies, and Bright Eyes

by gloriousdae



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Bright Eyes™, Cheating, Depression, F/M, John's an Asshole, Lies, M/M, Mental Abuse, Murder, Physical Abuse, Poor Alex - Freeform, Samuel is too sweet for this shit, Secrets, Sweet Laurette sorta, Verbal Abuse, all the abuse, besides not sexual, lee deserved it, oml all the fucking cheating, poor sammy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-01-28 08:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12602472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriousdae/pseuds/gloriousdae
Summary: When you first met him, John Laurens seemed like a sweet, trusting artist. Someone who put as much care into his work as he did his relationships. But the closer people got to him, the more they learned both secrets and lies about the man.The only person who knows all of the truth refuses to share it.(And Samuel doesn't deserve this.)———This is my NaNoWriMo project so I should be updating pretty regularly, if not on here, than on my Instagram(@you.and.i_do.or.die).———For the most part this work is unedited, and I will be editing it during December and January!





	1. Fakeable Vows

Samuel was sweet, kind, pretty, but Samuel was nothing compared to Lafayette. Lafayette is the man John would much rather had married, or maybe even Alexander. But here he was, sitting on the bathroom counter at a big banquet hall, hiding from his own wedding.  
Samuel really was amazing, John had to admit that. And John had to live knowing he swore he loved him when he hardly felt like he did.  
Samuel and his bright green eyes, almost as bright as Alexander's blue ones once were. Samuel and his sweet smile that would never be as dazzling as Lafayette’s. Samuel and his awkward charm, and his sweet little laugh. Samuel really was a good man, just not who John wanted.  
Yet John was in a suit, wearing a ring that had only been there thirty minutes and already regretting everything it stood for.  
John knew he should go back out to the hall, go back to Samuel. And he would, soon enough.  
Most of the people out there he didn't know, people from Samuel’s work, or his family. And he liked Samuel's family. And he liked Samuel's coworkers. And he liked Samuel's friends. And John's sister Mary and Martha were out their, and their husbands, and Martha's daughter. And John's brother James was out there with his girlfriend. Henry refused to come, had the same views as his dead father.  
But John didn't want to face his family, he hardly talked to them in the short time he was out there.  
John didn't have a choice.  
“John, Mary's looking for you.” It was James, smiling.  
“Mary's always looking for me.” John answered simply, jumping off the counter.  
“You've been in here for like ten minutes.”  
“I’ve been thinking.”  
“You can think later.”  
“Jamie, I'll be out there in like five.”  
“Five hours.”  
“Minutes, I promise, minutes.”  
“You know Mary, you ain't out here in five minutes and she'll come in here, she doesn't care what the sign on the door says.”  
“I know, James, I fucking know.”  
“What're you thinking about, anyway?”  
“Doesn't matter.”  
“It’s kept you occupied for ten minutes, it must matter to you.”  
“Just, I don't know, I don't think I'm ready for this, I don't think I have ever been the type of person to settle down, get married, I don't think I should be that type of person.”  
“It's a bit too late for that, isn't it?”  
“I know it is! That's the fucking issue!”  
“Well, you're married now, and he seems like a great guy.”  
“Samuel is amazing.”  
“And you need to spend the night with him, it's your guys’ night.”  
“I know.”  
And then it was silent between the two. James looked like he might say something more, or leave, or both. But he didn't move.  
Until someone came behind him.  
“Jacky, there you are.”  
John cringed at the nickname, hated it, never said anything about it.  
“Yeah, sorry Sammy.” John says sheepishly, glared at James as he winked then left.  
“Why are you hiding?”  
“Eh, there's a lot of people out there, way more than I'm used to being around, you know me and crowds.”  
Samuel nods, going and gently taking one of John's hands. He looked beautiful, he dressed up much nicer than John, wearing a tuxedo, putting some actual effort into his appearance. While John put on an old suit he had and tied his hair up as he normally would, he wished now that he put more effort into it.  
“Understandable.” Samuel says simply, looking at John for a moment, maybe studying his expression, John didn't know.  
“I'll come out in a few minutes, I promise.”  
“Want me to wait with you?”  
“No, you go on, have fun.”  
“John, I want you to have fun too.”  
“And I will, I just need a few more moments to get my shit together.”  
Samuel nods again, kissed John's cheek softly, then turned and left.  
And John watched him leave, wanted to say something, but couldn't figure out how, and by the time he did, the bathroom door was long closed.  
Five minutes later, John joined Samuel, smiling brightly, as if he wasn't just regretting everything.  
And he played nice, talked to people he didn't even know existed, was kind to Samuel's family, avoided his own.  
It wasn't till later, an hour into things, when Mary came over and grabbed John's arm, pulling him away from Samuel (they had been dancing).  
She pulled him to a quiet corner of the room.  
“What the hell, Mar?”  
“You look like you rather be stabbed than dance.”  
“So are you going to stab me?”  
“No, I don't want to give you what you want.”  
“So what did you want.”  
“There's someone here.”  
“Wow, I didn't know anyone was here. I'm pretty sure at least a hundred people are here.”  
“No, I mean, someone you didn't regretfully invite.”  
“First, I don't regret invite anyone.”  
“Martha's here.”  
“Second, who are you talking about?”  
“Well, it's some guy, he's tall, pretty, and french.”  
And John was still for only a moment, but a feeling of dread filled him, for a second he felt like he'd throw up, the next second he felt faint, the third second he felt normal. Scared, but normal.  
“Where is he?”  
“Well I told him he can't actually come in because he's not on the guest list, he said he didn't need to come in, just needed to talk to you.”  
“Tell him I'm not talking to him. Ever. Again.”  
“And who is he?”  
“Trouble.”  
“He can't be that bad, Johnny.”  
“He can and he is. Now go tell him to go away.”  
And then John walked away, back to Samuel, who was now talking to someone, but stopped when he felt John take his hand.  
“What did Mary want?”  
“To be a pest.”  
And then Samuel was back to talking, John knew he should maybe listen, join in the conversation. But his eyes were on the clear glass doors at the front of the hall. Watching his sister talk to the man, to Lafayette. For a moment he considered leaving Samuel's side again, going to talk to the Frenchman instead. Although he decided against it almost immediately. He'd stay with Samuel the rest of the night. He'd already fucked up too much.  
“Jacky, John, hello?”  
John shook his head just slightly, then looked at Samuel. “Yeah?”  
“You alright? You look ill.”  
“I'm good, don't worry love.” John says quickly, glancing right back at Mary.  
“Who's that with your sister?”  
“Some guy, I don't know, he said he wanted to talk to me.”  
“Then you should go talk to him.”  
“No.”  
“How about we go talk to him?”  
John fell silent, thankful for whatever he did to have Samuel, someone who cared about him more than he probably should. Especially since John knew he hardly cared for him.  
“Are you sure?”  
“Absolutely, come on.”  
John nods, “thank you.”  
Samuel didn't reply, just excused himself from the group of people he had been talking to, then began his way to Mary and Lafayette.  
And John was left to figure out what the hell he should even say to him.  
Left John with a feeling of dread he hadn't felt since his father was alive and in his life.  
Left John absolutely terrified.  
“There you are, Laurens.”  
His tone was polite, his accent the same as it was four years ago, his charm the same.  
“So you know him?” Samuel asks curiously.  
“He's ju-”  
“I am sorry, I am an old friend, as I was trying to explain to Mary.” Lafayette says quickly,  
John nods slightly, “I thought you were in France.”  
“I was, but I came back here a few months ago.”  
“Well come in, enjoy the party!” Samuel says happily.  
By then, John noticed that Mary had left. He noticed that Lafayette's smile was slightly forced. And he noticed his grip on Samuel's hand was immensely tight.  
Lafayette smiled brighter, faker, stepped just through the threshold.  
And Samuel let go of John's hand, forcing him to let go too.  
“I'll let you two catch up.”  
And then John was alone with him.  
And John wished he could just disappear. Didn't have to face Lafayette. Didn't have to deal with it.  
But he did.  
“He is a very handsome man.”  
John nods, a bit too quickly to agree.  
“Does he know the man he married.”  
“No one knows me like you do.”  
“And that is why I left and everyone else has stayed.”  
“I've gotten better.”  
“You've become a better liar, you mean? Better at staying consistent?”  
“He doesn't know about Alexander, or Lee.”  
“Lucky him.”  
“What did you want?”  
“To see an old friend.”  
“We… we've never been friends…”  
“True, lovers to enemies.”  
“Don't let Samuel know.”  
“Don't worry, I won't let him know a thing. Although, the beautiful man deserves better than a lying sack of shit.”  
“I know.”  
“Does he know anything about you?”  
“He knows about my family.”  
“How is your family?”  
“Better since my father died.”  
“I'm sorry about your loss.”  
“No you're not.”  
“I'm glad about your loss.”  
“There we go.”  
And then it was silent between the two. John grabbed Lafayette's wrist, going to pull him to table, although Lafayette pulled away, just followed John instead. Sitting across from him when they reached the table.  
“Samuel is sweet.” Lafayette says simply,  
“He is.”  
“What's he do?”  
“He's a reporter.”  
“Like Alexander.”  
“Well… he's not as good as Alexander, but they work at the same place.”  
“They would. If Alexander was still alive.”  
“Yeah…”  
“Don't tell me you forgot.”  
“How could I?”  
“Does Samuel know?”  
“He can't.”  
“Oh I'm sure he can.”  
John shook his head, then looked to where everyone was, he could easily spot Samuel in the crowd.  
“I'm sure he would love to know his husband's past.”  
John took a breath, but didn't say anything to him.  
“I'm sure he'd love to know exactly why his husband didn't want his ‘old friend’ to come in.”  
Lafayette did air quotes, John felt dread again.  
“How did you know?”  
“About you getting married? I keep up with you.”  
“Why couldn't you just stay in France?”  
“Because I want to make sure you don't hurt someone else.”  
“I won't. I'm done with that.”  
“You have said that before.”  
“Well now it's true, I'm over it, done with it.”  
“You've said that before.”  
“Well it's fucking true this time!”  
A few people looked over when John yelled, but he didn't care, he was more focused on the Frenchman. The Frenchman that was standing.  
“I should be going, let you get back to your party.”  
“What will you be doing?”  
“On I'll be staying in America for a while, but I may return to France again, I do not know.”  
“You should just go. And stay gone.”  
“Or what?”  
“I… I don't know… just stay away from me.”

———

John could've easily threatened Lafayette. He knew John could do horrible things to him. But he also knew that John wouldn't be able to, not anymore.  
The two knew each other too well. They might not know exactly what the other would do, but they knew what they were capable of, knew what they would and wouldn't do.  
For instance, Lafayette knew John could kill him, but he never would. It didn't matter what Lafayette did, John would never hurt him. Not physically, at least. They had hurt each other plenty, then they left each other alone.  
The Frenchman’s original plan was to stay at the wedding, watch John. But John seemed just as broken as he was four years ago, as he was seven years ago, as he was since Lee went to jail ten years ago.  
And if he was just as broken, he wouldn't do anything wrong. He had learned his lesson, he had learned what happens when he lost everyone's trust.  
So Lafayette left, went back to his small apartment. And he'd pretend like he didn't know John Laurens, like he didn't know what John Laurens did, what Charles Lee didn't.

———

By the end of the night, John had done his best to forget Lafayette, as much as he could at least. He finally was joining in on conversations normally, gave up on avoiding his siblings.  
They were staying in a hotel. Although John still didn't completely understand, him and Samuel lived just across town, he just went along with it, didn't want to argue.  
“So who was the french guy?”  
“An old friend, I told you, didn't I?”  
“You didn't, he did.”  
“Oh, well, he's just an old friend. Haven't really kept in touch with him these last few years, after he went back to France and all.”  
Samuel nods, sitting beside John.  
“I was just wondering because you looked pretty scared of him.”  
“Odd.”  
“Like, how you looked when we went to visit your father last year.”  
“Sammy, I promise I'm not scared of Lafayette.”  
“Are you doing okay? Off the topic of him.”  
“Just overwhelmed, lots of people, lots of noise.”  
“Next time we'll have a quiet wedding.” Samuel says win a laugh.  
“Oh? Are we getting divorced any time soon?”  
“I mean, if we do, it'll only be to have a quiet wedding.”  
“And what are the chances of you getting tired of me?”  
“Jacky, I told you this yesterday, this morning, and I will tell you again, there is no way I'll ever get tired of you.” Samuel reassures him, then gently kissed him, it only lasted a few moments.  
“Let's see, you've lasted two years and ten months, and before my longest relationship lasted for three years, so if you pass that mark, I'll be amazed.”  
“And I'll gladly stick around for another two months and a day, and longer than that.”  
“What was it, ‘forever and always’?”  
“Something stupid and cheesy like that, yeah.”  
“Then I shall love you forever and always.” John says as he put an arm around his waist. And he knew it was a lie, he knew very well he didn't love Samuel.  
“I'll love you longer and more.”  
“I'm sure you could.”


	2. Sobriquets and Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of John and Lafayette's relationship, a seemingly perfect thing.

_Five years before John meets Samuel._

———

John sat at his usual spot in the small coffee shop, a back corner table, tucked out of the way where he could work without being a bother to everyone around him.  
And just like every day, the man who worked there the most would bring him a coffee every two or so hour, John would always pay for them at the end of the day.  
John had been there three hours so far today, and was slowly working on a piece someone commissioned him for. It was for James Reynolds, who requested a drawing of his wife for her birthday.  
Then he heard a chair move, closer than any of the other tables, and looked up. Across from him was the man who worked there. John knew him slightly, knew his name was Lafayette, knew he was french, and knew he worked at a coffee shop.  
“It is Laurens, non?”  
“It is, John Laurens.”  
“So your pretty face does come with a full name.” He spoke smoothly, had a slight smirk.  
“Does yours have one as well? Other than Lafayette?”  
“Oh you don't want to know my name, it's too much for you to even try to remember.”  
“I don't know, try me.”  
John earned a bright smile, even his eyes seemed to be bright, even though they were such a dark shade of brown they could be mistaken for black.  
“Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette.”  
John nods, “you have quite the name.”  
“This is why my name tag says Lafayette.”  
“But your name is Marie-Joseph Paul… uh… something something, Gilbert something something Lafayette something something other Lafayette.”  
The Frenchman laughed, “yes, my name includes the word ‘something’ six times.”  
“It might as well!”  
“Again, this is why I just go with Lafayette, on occasion Gilbert.”  
John couldn't help but giggle.  
“What is it?”  
“I don't know, Gilbert is more like pet name than a person name, out of all the name you have to chose from, why Gilbert?”  
“I rather like Gilbert.” He says, crossed his arms, but was smiling.  
“Why not Marie?”  
“Because I prefer Gilbert over the other options.”  
“But if you preferred Joseph then I could get away with calling you Joey!”  
“No. Absolutely not.”  
“You're no fun. What about Gilly?”  
“I should've never given you my full name, you use it like a weapon.”  
“I just think you could use some fun nicknames, Lafayette is a mouthful, nothing compared to your whole name, but still, a mouthful.”  
“Maybe I like it that way.”  
“You like to be a mouthful?”  
“I might.”  
“Wait, wait, I have an idea.”  
“Is it related to my name?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then I don't want to hear it.”  
“What about Marie-Joey?”  
“I have the power to get you banned from here.”  
“Oh I'm sure you do, but I'm sure you won't.”  
“Why are you sure?”  
“Because, you said I'm pretty, and I know you're one to favor beautiful things, so you may stop talking to me, but you wouldn't ban me.”  
“You're entirely correct, you would need to do something that's actually bad for me to ban you.”  
“Have you banned anyone before?”  
“Once.”  
“Is that all the answer I'll get?”  
“It was a man who came in and started harassing other customers, he was not only banned, but arrested as well.”  
“Well, I promise I would never do that, I'll just think of good nicknames and draws.”  
“Your idea of a good nickname is far off than what an actual good nickname is.”  
“Good is an opinion, not an observation.”  
The two carried on talking for nearly an hour more, soon getting off the topic of Lafayette's name and moving onto other things. Such as John's work, and France.  
And then another customer came in, and Lafayette had to return to work, but not before doing something quickly.  
“Can I borrow a scrap of paper? And a pencil too?”  
And John took out a small notepad from his bag, handed it to him, as well as a pen.  
And John watched as he wrote something out, taking a few moments. Then he ripped the page out of the notebook and set it in front of John for him to read. It was his full name, and then a phone number.  
“If you get any other ideas for nicknames, I’d like for you to text me them.”  
“I thought you didn't like my nicknames.”  
“They're amusing, but I refuse to give into them.”  
Lafayette stood and went behind the counter after that.  
And John took out his phone, added Lafayette to his contacts, making his name ‘Marie-Joey’, and then texted him the same thing.  
Five minutes later he was packing up his things, then leaving the coffee shop, beginning his way to his apartment.  
He got a text from Lafayette soon after he got home, it simply said ‘Jacky.’ And John smiled, he was used to Jack, by the last person to call him Jacky was long dead, and he honestly loved the nickname.  
———

The next day, John didn't go to the coffee shop. Instead he stayed home and really focused on the drawing for Reynolds, considering he was supposed to give it to James Reynolds that night. He had a month to do the drawing, but he had forgotten all about it. So now he was locked in his apartment and drawing, slowly but surely making progress.  
By noon he was nearly finished, just had to color it and put on final details. And it was around that time that he got a phone call, not even glancing at the name he answered it.  
“Heya, it's Laurens.” He says as he began putting away pencils he didn't need anymore.  
“I hope so, other wise I called the wrong contact.” It took John a moment, but he was quick to figure out the voice was Lafayette's, and John smiled brighter than he probably should have.  
“Oh yeah, you definitely did.”  
And there was a pause, one longer than a normal type of pause. And John bit his lip, trying to think of something to fill the pause. Because it was a lot more awkward over the phone than it would've been in person.  
“I assume you aren't coming to the coffee shop today?”  
“Nope. I wanted to give you an idea of how lonely you'd be if you did ban me.”  
Lafayette laughed, and John couldn't help but laugh as well.  
“Well, actually I have a deadline I have to meet, and you're too distracting, so I just stayed home.”  
“And what will you do without coffee?”  
“I manage just fine without coffee, plus I got a machine of my own.”  
“But I am sure whatever coffee you make at home will not be as good as what I could make you here.”  
“I'm absolutely positive that that's true, but I need to finish this.”  
“When must it be done?”  
“I'm taking it over to the man around five.”  
“That's in hours. How much longer do you need to work on it?”  
“Probably another hour.”  
“And after that, what do you plan on doing?”  
“Working on a painting I've been avoiding.”  
“What are you doing after you drop off the drawing?”  
“Working on the painting I've been avoiding.”  
“Can you avoid it for a bit longer?”  
“I suppose I can.”  
“Fantastic! And I have a proposal on what you could do instead of paint.”  
“And what could that be?”  
“Join me for dinner at seven.”  
“I think I can handle that.”  
“Wonderful, then I shall pick you up a little before seven, just text me your address.”

———

For the drawing of James Reynolds’ wife, John was supposed to receive five hundred dollars. A lot more than his usual price (somewhere between fifty and a hundred usually). He was supposed to receive that much money. Instead he received nothing but a bruised up arm.  
But that was alright, John could deal with it, he had other commissions he needed to do that could get him more money, and he was doing fine anyway. If worse came to worse, he could always call one of his siblings for money, although he did try to avoid them as much as possible.  
The bruise didn't matter, he could get away with wearing a long sleeved shirt, Lafayette wouldn't have to know, wouldn't have to worry. But then John reminded himself, Lafayette might not worry, Lafayette might not care at all. He simply pushed that thought away as he continued getting dressed, he'd worry if Lafayette even cared about him later.

———

Lafayette had a slightly hard time finding John's apparent, but that was mostly because John forgot to include his apartment’s number in the address, and only gave him the building’s address. So after knocking on a few wrong doors, finally someone pointed him in the right direction, and Lafayette was standing outside the door an old woman promised him was John's. He had already knocked, now just waiting for an answer.  
John answered the door a few seconds later, and Lafayette immediately pulled him into a hug, when he pulled away he was smiling brightly.  
And sure, John was smiling back, but nowhere near as happily, and Lafayette thought for a moment he might be upset, but pushed it aside, wouldn't worry too much.  
“How did your drawing go?” Lafayette asked, just to break the silence.  
But it didn't help, because John was quiet for a moment.  
“It went alright.” He finally answered after at least thirty seconds.  
“I'm sure the drawing was amazing, it already looked like it was yesterday.”  
John laughed softly, brightening his dull eyes, then shook his head. “Well, definitely not my best work, but apparently worth five hundred dollars.”

———

The time at the restaurant went over well, although too quickly for the both of them. They were talking endlessly, and by the end of the night sharing a side of the booth instead of sitting across from each other.  
And when Lafayette was going to drop John off at his apartment, he insisted on walking him to his door, refusing to just let him out of the car.  
And before John went into his apartment, Lafayette pulled him into a hug, kissed him gently, then said a quick goodbye.  
John couldn't help but replay the simple soft kiss over and over. It was hardly anything, could mean nothing, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted it to mean.

———

John stayed home the next day as well, half of him wanting to just work on things, half of him just not wanting to see Lafayette. Well actually, it wasn't that he didn't want to see Lafayette. It was that if he saw him it'd be awkward, at least he assumed it would be. And John didn't want that, so he thought it was best to just avoid it completely.  
He had gotten a few texts, but he ignored them for now, didn't really care to talk to anyone. He was happy just organizing papers he'd been ignoring, and after an hour he was glad he stayed home.

———

Lafayette wasn't working today, but he did want to see John, so went to the coffee shop anyway, a bit disappointed when he didn't see him there. Assuming that he was just working at home today, he went and bought a coffee, then started on his way to John's apartment building.  
He texted John, let him know he was coming, didn't even think to ask if he was home.  
From what he knew about John, he didn't know many people in New York besides clients and connections he's made with other artists, but none of those he would call friends. His family lived in South Carolina, but he hardly talked to him since he moved to New York when he was nineteen. Mostly he talked to his brother James, but that was a once a month occurrence, if at all. He knew John didn't talk to his father at all, and hadn't since he came out as gay when he was eighteen. Lafayette didn't know anything about John's mother, and wasn't looking to know, he only asked simple questions and was satisfied with whatever John said to answer them.  
Really, he just liked to hear John talk. Already loved how his face lit up when he talked about things she really cared about, his art was the first thing that came to mind.  
He probably should've been more clear that dinner the night before was intended to be a date, although he might have gotten that message through when he kissed John. That wasn't his plan, his plan was to make it clear what his intentions were, then go from there. But then he ended up kissing John, and he wasn't exactly complaining.  
Lafayette soon made it to John's building, going to the apartment he hoped was John's and knocking on the door. Thirty seconds later he saw John and smiled brightly, happy to know he had found the right apartment.  
“Oh, heya.” John's voice was soft and sweet, Lafayette couldn't help but note that.  
“Hey, I noticed you weren't at the coffee shop, and two days without decent coffee can't be good for you.” Lafayette says, holding out the coffee.  
“Are you saying my coffee making skills aren't even decent?”  
“I'm saying compared to what I make, your coffee is absolute shit.”  
“I don’t even get an ounce of a chance!”  
“Hey, unless you can prove me wrong, I'm deciding you have no skill in making coffee.”  
John laughs, took the coffee in one hand, grabbed Lafayette's with the other and pulled him inside.  
“Seems I have to prove you wrong then.”  
“I don't think you can.”  
“No, I am about to make you the best coffee your stupid french ass has ever had.”  
“Uh huh, I'm sure you will.”  
John didn't answer him, only let go of his hand and put down his coffee before beginning to make coffee.  
While Lafayette went to the living room, which was filled with artwork.  
“It's nice to see finished work of yours, since I only ever see you working on things.”  
“Don't try to distract me from my important work!”  
“I'm trying to compliment you.”  
“Uh huh, so I can give you shitty coffee and you can be all smug about being better at making coffee.”  
“I never said I'd be smug about it.”  
“But I bet you would be.”  
“Look, I make great coffee, you make pretty pictures.”  
“I'm going to make you great coffee and you're going to love it.”  
“Of course I’ll love it, you made it.”  
“Shut up, that's cheesy.”  
“Cheesy but true.”  
Lafayette looked over at John, who was just watching him as he looked at all the art. Both of them were smiling, but John was probably smiling much brighter.


	3. Sweet Nothings and Bitter Somethings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I gotta say is, Lee started it.

_Nine years before John meets Samuel._

———

John loved Charlie, he really did.  
Just sometimes, he wondered if Charlie loved him too.  
Because sometimes, they'd be happy, they'd be perfect. All John ever wanted, all he'd ever need.  
And then, there were times John rather be dead than spend another minute with Charlie. When John wanted to run away rather be in South Carolina than his boyfriend.  
At first, it was okay, every few months Charlie got angry to the point he hurt John, screamed at him. But it always ended in kisses, sweet words, it was okay, everything was fine. Things were just stressful in the moment, Charlie wouldn't be angry forever, it was okay.  
But then got more frequent, it started to happen every few weeks. But still, it ended in kisses and sweet words. Still it was okay, still it was fine, most of the time everything was perfect.  
Two years into their relationship, it started happening once a week, but it was okay. John was starting to be able to figure out when Charlie would be mad, how mad he'd be. He learned to calculate it, the best ways to take it. Just like with his father, he learned how to go with it, how to survive, it'd be fine, he'd be okay.  
He'd forgotten that he had a countdown to when he could get away from his father. That he hates his father. That comparing his boyfriend to his father meant something was wrong.  
For a year, John was happy. Every week Charlie would snap, but it ended well, always in kisses and sweet words.  
By the time their fourth anniversary was coming along, Charlie was getting angry almost every day, the bad times were beginning to outweigh the good.  
But John didn't mind, it ended in sweet words and sweeter kisses.  
John would stay, he'd be happy, Charlie would get to a happy place and everything would be okay.

———

John liked to draw, liked to paint, but Charlie didn't like it, so he hardly did it. Although today, Charlie wasn't going to be home till later, so John sat in their room, happily sketching.  
The apartment they had was like a dark hole. Charlie always insisted that the curtains remain closed, the lights were dim. The place was small and dark, and John hated staying there all day, nearly every day. But he did, because Charlie asked him to, because Charlie promised him he didn't need to go out.  
John rarely left the apartment anymore, it was safer for him to stay there. The furthest he went from the apartment was the roof of the building. Sometimes he left the building, but that was rare, and he never left alone, always had to have Charlie with him.  
John sighed, stood up from his spot on the bed, grabbed his things and began heading out of the apartment.  
Slowly and softly made his way through the hallway, up the dingy stairs to the roof.  
And he sighed happily when he was finally in the sunlight. Although it stung his eyes and he had to squint. It’d been almost a week since he left the apartment, almost a week since Charlie had been gone long enough for him to be outside.  
John sat down in the normal spot he always sat in, the one that would be in direct sunlight for longest. He didn't even think to draw, just wanted to take in the sun, didn't know when he'd see it again. Didn't want to have to wait, knew he'd need to, it was safer that way.  
———

Charlie wasn't supposed to be home till after dark, so John would know by sun down to go back inside, pretend he spent the whole day inside.  
So when John heard the door slam open, he was surprised, and when he turned towards it, he felt his heart stop.  
Quickly, he stood up, went over to Charlie, hoping salvage whatever happy mood there could be.  
“Charles, I didn't realize you'd be home yet, I was ju-”  
“Why the fuck are you up here?”  
“I just wanted to be out in the sun for a bit.”  
His answer seemed to be ignored, and Charlie pushed him back, John stumbled but didn't fall.  
“You ungrateful asshole! I only ask one thing from you, you know that, right? I ask for one thing! That's that you're home when I get home from work. And yet here you fucking are, apparently hiding from me!”  
“I wasn't hiding, I swear.”  
“I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses. All I want from you is to behave and an apology.”  
“I'm sorry, Charlie, it won't happen again.”  
John yelped when he was slapped, felt his left cheek sting, at least it wouldn't bruise.  
“It better not.”  
And then there was silence, John knew it was too early in for him to try to get Charlie to calm down, so he was silent, waited until he was given instructions. He just wanted to make Charlie happy, always just wanted that, it rarely happened anymore.  
“What were you doing?”  
“Drawing.” John answered in a whisper, knew Charlie wouldn't like that answer.  
“Why? You can't fucking draw, it's all shit, everything you do, the fact that you still think you can is amazing, I've been telling you for years that you can't fucking draw.” As he spoke, he picked up the sketch book.  
“It's peaceful.” John whispers, flinched as Charlie tore a page from the book.  
“Oh like the rest of your life isn't peaceful! What do you have to do?! Besides sit at home and be pretty?!” He threw the book now, it went over the edge of the roof, falling five stories to the ground, gone.  
“What do you want me to do now? What will make you happy in this moment?” John asks desperately, sure it hasn't lasted long, he hardly had been touched, but he didn't want to go through the whole routine.  
“Get your ass back in the apartment.”  
And in moments John was quickly going, wanting to be as good as possible. He raced down the stairs, didn't stop until he was sitting on the edge of his bed.

———

The rest of the night went by in a blur. John getting beat till he was bloody and bruised. Till he was sobbing. It was one of the nights where Charlie was so mean, and John was so weak, that he was begging for it to end, gasping for air between words and just wanting it to be over.  
And something finally clicked in Charlie. His touch and tone became gentle, and he sat beside John on the floor.  
He had to coax John from the sobbing ball, but once John fully realized he had calmed down, he clung onto Charlie.  
Charlie was sweet and gentle with him, helped stop all the bleeding, addressed the wounds, put cream on the forming bruises.  
Soon John had fully calmed down, sitting on the edge of the bed pitifully, looking up at Charlie who stood before him.  
“I… I'm sorry… it won't happen again… I swear… I promise… never again… I'll stay here… I'll make you happy…”  
“Shhh, John, it's okay.”  
And Charlie's sat beside him, wrapped his arms around him, kissed his forehead.  
“If you want to get out more, maybe you can find a job as well, just a small, part time thing, to get you out of the house. How's that sound?”  
John nods quickly, smiling softly at Charlie. “Yeah, that sounds good…” he whispers.  
Charlie smiled back, looked so sweet, so pretty. Kissed John sweetly, soon pulling him up into bed probably as he drifted off to sleep.

———

Two months later, John was just wandering, slowly making his way to the park, just weaving through streets, even though he knew very well he could easily get there in less than ten minutes.  
He hadn't gotten a job, but he was allowed to leave the apartment, and that's all he needed. He had money, he didn't need a job. He needed to talk to people that weren't just Charlie. He needed something outside of his dark hole of an apartment.  
John had gone to nearly every coffee shop in the neighborhood, didn't really care for them anymore. Didn't want to sit down and stay anywhere anymore. He just wanted to walk around, go places, see things.  
He had found a craft store, bought a new sketchbook, luckily had saved his pencils, so now those things were in his bag, and his goal today was to draw something. Charlie continued to remind him that he wasn't that good of an artist, which just made John want to try harder. He wanted to create a picture that Charlie would love. He didn't know exactly how to do that, but he knew if he improved he'd get somewhere.  
When John got to the park, he went and sat in the usual spot he sat in. At the base of a giant tree, which was on a small hill. So he was slightly looking over the rest of the park. Sure, most people didn't go to this part of the park, but he was there, and others were there, and he was happy.  
He was lost in sketching soon after sitting down. Working on recreating the image in front of him, just trees, grass, and a little less than a dozen people.  
He didn't notice when someone sat near him, just a few feet away, not until they spoke, at least.  
“Hey, I just wanted to say that looks really good.”  
John looked up, slightly startled but didn't show it, then smiled at the man. He had dark hair down to his shoulders, bright blue eyes, and a notebook in his lap.  
“Oh… thanks!” John says, he was hesitant, worried there was a but coming, but there was nothing.  
Besides an introduction.  
“I'm Alexander Hamilton, by the way.”  
“John Laurens.”  
“It's a pleasure to meet you, mister Laurens.”  
John just nods slightly, muttered a “you too.” and then returned to drawing, for at least a few minutes.  
“Can I ask you something?” John asks, he was hesitant, didn't want to interrupt the other.  
“Sure, go ahead.”  
“Does this look similar to… well, all that?” John held the sketchbook to the other with one hand, gesturing to the park in front of them with his other.  
“It looks scarily similar for a drawing, yeah.”  
“So you meant it?”  
“Meant what? That it looks amazing?”  
“Uh, yeah, sure.”  
“Oh definitely.”  
John nods, “thanks.”  
And then they both returned to their separate tasks. John drawing a bit quicker, feeling a slight bit more confident in what he was doing now. It might not be to Charlie's standards, but if it impressed a stranger than it had to be getting close.

———

Charlie was already home from work by the time John got home, which was a bit later than he meant. But John went through the same motions when he got home, greeted Charlie, hugged him, asked him about his day, he was able to save what little bit of good mood he still had.  
It’d be a good night, something nice, skipping the fighting and going straight to the kisses and sweet words.  
Until Charlie asked about his day, asked what he had done.  
“Well, I went to park.” John answers softly, then moved from his spot beside Charlie, going to grab his bag. Sat back down with his new sketchbook, leaned against Charlie.  
“I thought I told you to stop drawing, it's a waste of your time, you need to work on something you can actually do.”  
“No, wait, I want to show you what I did today.” John says softly, opened the book to the first page, the sketch of the park.  
“You spent your day doing this?”  
“Yeah…”  
“What the fuck, John!?”  
And quickly, John put away his sketchbook, put it to the side.  
He took it all, every hit, pull, kick, he was used to it at this point. It hurt, of course it did, but he could take it.  
He told himself that every night, he could push through it, take it.  
He always ended up begging for it stop.  
Until Charlie grabbed him by his neck, held on just tight enough to stop John from talking, left him gasping for breath, sobbing.  
Let go of him a minute later, and John fell down, crumbled to the ground, hoping it was over. Damn near praying it was over, and he hated praying.  
Then he felt kicks, Charlie yelling at him to get his ass up. And John tried his best, shakily kneeling, couldn't do more than that before he just fell down again, sobbing in a ball on the floor.  
And that's when Charlie usually switched to being soft, that was usually the end of it.  
Not tonight.  
No, tonight Charlie kept going, kept kicking. Knocked the wind out of John, he could hardly breath, he was wheezing horribly.  
John couldn't even beg him to stop, couldn't get any words out. Every time he tried he was just gasping.  
Half an hour later, Charlie stopped, went quiet. Left the room, slamming the bedroom door, John would've jumped if he had the energy, but he was deflated, he couldn't do anything.  
It took twenty minutes for him to get himself onto the couch, just curled into a ball there.  
He wanted Charlie, wanted to be held, wanted Charlie to be gentle with him, his soft words.  
Instead he heard crashing on the other side of the door, Charlie was throwing things, he was still angry, just couldn't hurt John anymore.  
In a way, John wanted him to hit him more, hurt him just a slight bit more.  
Because anything more and John might've died, and honestly, that was starting to look like the only exit, only way to really get away from Charlie.  
Because if there were no soft words, than what was the point of staying?

———

The next morning, John woke up on the floor. He swore he fell asleep on the couch, but must've rolled off, been so tired he didn't even wake up.  
And as he blinked his eyes open, he noticed how bright the room was, the curtains were all pulled back, flooding the room with light.  
John sat up, looking around, feeling a little lost. The events of the night before coming back to him as he tried to place why everything hurt, and he remembered. Charlie was angry with him, so angry he wouldn't even talk to him after. So angry that he ended up sleeping on the couch.  
Then he heard humming, looked to the small kitchen and saw that Charlie was cooking, had yet to notice that John was awake.  
“Good morning, Charlie.” John's voice was soft, but loud enough to be heard.  
And immediately Charlie turned around, smiled at him, John couldn't help but return the smile.  
He ignored the pain as he got up and went over to Charlie, pulling him into a hug.  
“Morning my love.” Charlie says, his tone happy, light.  
John wants to believe that he really is Charlie's love, but he also can't ignore the pain he was in. He was confused, but just let the other kiss him, kissed him back. Didn't mind too much, he loved Charlie, especially when he was like this, soft and sweet.  
———

This lasted for three weeks, Charlie was just as nice as he was when they started dating. Charlie never did apologize for almost killing John, but he didn't really mind. It was done, they were past it. It didn't matter.  
And then, one morning, the curtains were closed and Charlie wasn't beside John when he woke up.  
John got up quickly, went to find him. It was his day off, he should be there. And he was, standing in the living room looking pissed.  
“Good morning, Charlie.”  
“Shut up.”  
“Are you alright?”  
“Are you stupid?” Charlie's tone was harsh, and he turned around, grabbed John's arm. “I said shut up.” Slapped John, let go of him and smiled slightly when he stumbled back.  
“I'm sorry, Charlie.”  
“Speak again you fucker!”  
He hit John again, pushed him, and he fell down. He could've stopped himself from falling, but he thought, for some reason, that he'd be better off if he was on the ground.  
He was wrong.  
Lee was kicking him moments later, and John let him. Didn't ask him to stop. He just took it. Soon enough his nose was bleeding, his right eye bruised, and so was the rest of him.  
But then, John just screamed, and it actually made Charles pause, stopped kicking John just long enough for him to stand up.  
John was crying, he realized this but ignored it. “I'm going out until you calm down.” He whispers.  
“That fuck you are!” Charles grabbed his arm, but John pulled away from him.  
“I'll be back later today. Just until you calm down. I'm tired of this.” John says, tried to sound firm. But he was failing. He was small compared to Charles, at least in this moment. And he was terrified of him.  
“It won't be good when you get back.”  
“Then I'll just leave again.”  
And then John was going towards the door, grabbed his bag that was by the couch and left the apartment.

———

John didn't know where to go at first, but soon enough he was at the park he always ended up at, sat under the same tree on the same little hill he always ended up at.  
His nose had stopped bleeding while he was walking, sure there was blood on his face, but he'd figure out how to clean it up later.  
For now, he just wanted to sit, be quiet. He didn't want to worry about what would happen when he got home.  
He still loved Charles, he really did, but he knew he couldn't keep going through it like this. Knew very well that he couldn't keep letting him treat him the way he did. He just didn't know how to stop it. He just knew it needed to happen.  
He leaned back on the tree, shut his eyes.  
He was honestly scared, even there, over a mile from his apartment. He was scared Charles would find him, hurt him more.  
And so when someone gently tapped his shoulder, he gasped, jumped and then opened his eyes.  
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”  
The man crouching down beside him was the same one he met weeks ago, although he couldn't remember his name.  
“It's alright, don't worry.” John answers softly, smiling slightly.  
“Are you okay? I uh, I hate to intrude, but you don't look well.”  
“Yeah, I'm fine. My boyfriend and I just got in a bit of a fight.”  
The man frowned, sat beside John now.  
“Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're the amazing artist named John Laurens, yes?”  
“You're half right. I'm John Laurens, but I ain't an artist.”  
“What you drew before was a masterpiece.”  
“What I drew before was a shitty sketch.”  
“Yeah right.” He scoffs, and John couldn't help but smile at him. “Now, may I ask if there's anyway I can help you? Get your face cleaned up a bit?”  
“No it's fine, don't worry…”  
“Uh huh, it's fine, totally fine, that's why your right eye is purple, arms are black and blue, and whole bottom portion of your face is covered in blood. The perfect image of fine.”  
“I promise, I'm fine.”  
“Is it common for you to lie this much?”  
“I… no, I usually try to avoid lying.”  
“Then why don't you admit to at least yourself that you're not fine.”  
“Why?”  
“Because lying to yourself is the worst way to lie.”  
“Okay, whatever.”  
“You're stubborn.”  
“I can be.”  
“It's cute.”  
“It's annoying.”  
“Annoying and cute.”  
John was quiet after that, wanted to say something but didn't know what.  
“Look, I just want to help. At least to get the blood off your face?”  
“Yeah… I guess…”  
“Great, come on.”  
And he stood up, held out a hand to help John up. Although it was ignored.  
“I… I'm sorry… but I forgot your name…”  
“Alexander.”  
And John wanted to hit himself, it was simple, he should've known.  
“Oh yeah…”  
“Come on, my apartment isn't too far from here.”  
And then Alexander was walking, and John frisked behind him.  
When they got to the apartment, Alexander made him sit on the couch, got a wet washcloth and gently cleaned his face.  
“You've got blood on your shirt as well.”  
“It's alright, don't worry.”  
“No, one minute.”  
And Alexander left, came back soon enough with a clean t-shirt.  
“Here, put this on.”  
John nods, took off his shirt and then put on the one Alexander offered him. He was balling up his shirt, about to put it in his bag when Alexander took it from him.  
“You do that and it'll be stained forever.”  
“And what else am I supposed to do?”  
“I'll treat it and then wash it, if you're willing to stick around for that long.”  
“I’d like to stay out of my apartment as long as possible, but I hate to overstay my welcome.”  
“You're totally fine, I'll be right back.”  
And then Alexander left the room, left John with his thoughts. Alexander was kind. Alexander was safe. And he trusted Alexander already.


	4. Unnamed for now

Two years before John meets Samuel.

———

John sighed to himself, glaring at the ceiling of his bedroom.  
The room was empty, so many things packed into boxes he hadn't gotten the motivation to ship. So much more space now that he had a twin sized bed instead of a queen, he didn't need a queen bed anyway, didn't have anyone to share it with. The living room was in a similar state, half packed up, God he has so many things to ship to France, he didn't even know how much it'd cost.  
He had half the mind to contact Lafayette, ask him for the money to ship it all. But he left too quickly, too angrily. John couldn't bother him. John never could again. Lafayette was back in France, in a whole other country, an ocean between them. Much too far to actually contact.  
So John was glaring at the ceiling, trying to find it in him to get up and at least turn off the light if he wasn't going to do something, the sun would be down soon enough. And honestly, John didn't know if he could face a dark, lonely room alone. For the last week he hardly did anything besides get a new bed.  
Sure, he needed to work on a few commissions, sorting through piled up paperwork. He could think of a million things he needed to do.  
But he couldn't scrape up an ounce of motivation, and he had a feeling it'd stay that way.  
He could do this one more night, pitying himself like he didn't bring this upon himself.  
Pitying himself like he was completely innocent.  
When he knew damn well he wasn't.  
When he knew he shouldn't be blaming Lafayette, that the Frenchman was innocent.  
That Alexander was innocent.  
He didn't even fear that Lafayette would tell anyone, Lafayette didn't want anything to do with him, he wouldn't tell a soul.  
He wouldn't tell a soul, and John would forget about him quickly.  
Just how you always easily forget the best three years of your life. Three years where he felt like he wasn't just broken, where he wasn't just bad. Such a different setting than the three years that lead up to it all.  
Of course, now he was back to feeling worthless and pitying himself. Back to where he wished he would've realized how bad Lee was at first. Back to where he wished he would've listened to Alexander. And now, to where he wished he would've kept his mouth shut with Lafayette.  
He thought forgive and forget might work with himself, but it doesn't. It never would, but one could dream.  
John turned over, thought maybe if he curled into a ball, closed his eyes, he could forget the light was one.  
Now if only everything else were easy to forget.  
He sighed, pulled the blanket over him, over his head. Block out the light, he can't see it, it's not there.  
That strategy didn't work with most things, it worked with the light.

———

Two hours before John meets Samuel.

———

John sighed, letting go of the little boy’s hand, giving him the gentlest push towards the playground, then going to sit on the bench. He could easily see him from here, just needed to make sure he didn't fall down, didn't rough house with the other kids there.  
John had been babysitting Jim on weekends for five months now, had gotten pretty good with caring for the four year old. He was actually almost fired because the father got mad that he was closer to the boy than he was, although that was quickly sorted out.  
John didn't exactly like kids, actually, sort of hated them. He never wanted them, never was good with them. But he needed work, and a family that he very distantly knew needed a full time babysitter, so he sucked it up and learned how to take care of kids.  
Admittedly, Jim was an easy kid. He liked to play by himself most the time, got along well with toddlers and older children.  
Sometimes he'd throw fits, but John had learned how to deal with them pretty quickly. He had to hold the boy, make sure he didn't claw himself (he tried to do that whenever he got frustrated), just wait out the crying. And once it stopped, he was tired for about ten minutes, then was right back to running around and playing.  
John was watching Jim carefully, always did when they came to this park. It was full of things to climb, nets, fake rock walls, ladders. All things that are great for small, clumsy humans to fall off of. And Jim had a track record of falling.  
John glanced to his left when a woman sat beside him, she had long black hair a honestly one of the most friendly smiles he'd ever seen.  
“Which child is yours?” Her voice was pleasant too, like the word pleasant was made to describe her.  
“The little blond boy.” John says, pointing towards where Jim was. “What about you?”  
“My two sons are at the swings, bigger ones Philip, smaller ones Zack.” She says happily, proudly.  
“And what is your name?”  
“Elizabeth, yours?”  
“Laurens. How old are your kids?”  
“Five and eleven, yours?”  
“Jim’s four.”  
And then the younger boy, Zack, called for his mother, so she got up and went to him.  
John was back to watching Jim as soon as she was up. The small boy was trying to climb up a ladder, but on the wrong side of it. He did it often, and John gave up on teaching him otherwise. As long as he didn't fall down, John really didn't care.  
On most days they spent nearly three hours at the park, the first half hour Jim would climb and run around, then he’d just sit in the sand and play, and he'd play there forever if John didn't have to be sure to feed him.  
John would pretend he was happy with this job, smile for the kid and his parents. Although he knew full well he wasn't happy, hadn't been truly happy since he and Lafayette broke up. But it was easier to pretend.

———

John held Jim’s hand as they walked, the little boy wouldn't let John carry him anymore, so John's grip was tight, to make sure he didn't get away.  
Still, he tried to wander away from John, tried to pull his hand away.  
And then there were the moments when one would stumble on uneven sidewalk, although John usually recovered quickly, the worst thing that normally happened was that he had to pull Jim by his arm to get him upright again.  
From all the times that John or Jim stumbled, it'd be logical to say that John kept an eye out for where the sidewalk would be uneven, but he hardly payed attention.  
So it made sense when John fell down, hitting the ground hard, pulling the kid with him.  
Jim was sobbing the moment he hit the ground, while John was quick to stand up and pick him up.  
“Shhh, it's okay, I've got you, it's okay.” John says gently to him.  
“Excuse me, do you need anything? Any help?” A man asks, John didn't even notice him come up until he spoke.  
“I don't think so, just need to get him to calm down.” John answers simply, gently bouncing Jim in his arms.  
“Your hand is bleeding.”  
John glanced at his free hand, it was, but he didn't care.  
“I promise, I'm fine.” He says with a small smile.  
The stranger grabbed John's free hand, held it so John could see his palm.  
“This is blood. Blood is bad. So you are not fine.”  
“If I let you help will you then let me get on my way?”  
“If you're in a rush I can settle without helping.  
“Not really a rush, just want to get him home sooner than later.”  
“Ten minutes, anything longer and you can go.”  
“I can agree to that.”  
And then John was following him, couldn't help but hope this ended better than the last time a stranger offered to help him when he was hurt. Of course this was a very different circumstance.

———

A year later and the two were happily dating.  
Or at least, Samuel seemed happy, he seemed thrilled.  
John was content, not happy, but he wasn't anything bad either, so he was alright.  
John had stopped babysitting, mostly gave up on it. He didn't like kids, didn't want to work with them all the time. So for now he was a waiter at a restaurant down the block from his and Samuel's apartment.  
While Samuel got a job a few months ago at a small newspaper, working as a reporter. John couldn't help but note that it was the same newspaper that Alexander had worked at.  
Samuel was sweet and beautiful, and anyone who was loved by him would be extremely lucky. And Samuel deserved someone to love him the same way. John just wasn't able to, he tried, spent the last twelve months trying. Samuel really did deserve someone so much better. And John knew he didn't deserve anyone, let alone someone as amazing as Samuel.


End file.
